never travelled, Mr. Mucklegrand. I have just lived here, until I
have lived _into_ things, or they into me. I rather think it is
travelling, skimming about the world in a hurry, that makes people
talk about 'scenery.' Isn't it?"

"I dare say. I don't care for skimming, myself. But I like to go to
nice places, and stay long enough to get into them, as you say. I
mean to go to Scotland next year. I've a place there among the hills
and lochs, Miss Rosamond."

"Yes. I have heard so. I should think you would wish to go and see
it."

"I'll tell you what I wish, Miss Holabird!" he said suddenly,
letting go his moustache, and turning round with sufficient
manfulness, and facing her. "I suppose there is a more gradual and
elegant way of saying it; but I believe straightforward is as good
as any. I wish you cared for me as I care for you, and then you
would go with me."

Rosamond was utterly confounded. She had not imagined that it could
be hurled at her, this fashion; she thought she could parry and put
aside, if she saw anything coming. She was bewildered and breathless
with the shock of it; she could only blindly, and in very foolish
words, hurl it back.

"O, dear, no!" she exclaimed, her face crimson. "I mean--I don't--I
couldn't! I beg your pardon, Mr. Mucklegrand; you are very good; I
am very sorry; but I wish you hadn't said so. We had better go
back."